


A Sense Of Balance

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had a request for some Combeferre/Enjolras/Grantaire, and this sleepy little ficlet is what I conceived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense Of Balance

Enjolras shifted in his sleep, and Combeferre watched him from the kitchen, smiling a little at the way he sprawled across the sofa. Grantaire was quiet in closing the door behind him, setting milk on the counter as he pulled off his coat. “I was gone for twenty minutes, if that.” He murmured, staring at the blond. “Has he really…?”

"He has really gone back to sleep, yes." Combeferre said, uncapping the milk to pour a little into two cups of tea. "It’s a Saturday, and he has a sleep debt to repay. We did rather keep him up, after all." The doctor added, and as he held out the mug, he smirked.

Grantaire laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back to the chief. He looked sweet like this, head tilted to the side, face half-hidden by the mess of hair curling around him. His lips were ever so slightly parted, and he looked  _relaxed_ , peaceful in a way Grantaire rarely saw him - Enjolras had such a tendency towards severity.

He considered last night, the way those features had looked when Combeferre had been layering kisses down his spine whilst he’d lowered himself onto Grantaire, the way his eyes had closed tighter than that, how his mouth had opened to let out the most glorious noises of pleasure, how he’d gasped and whimpered and  _melted_  under Combeferre’s hands.

He looked to Combeferre, and he smiled, remembering how composed he’d remained until Grantaire had turned his attentions to him, kissing down his sternum and stroking over his thighs, how Combeferre had took in breaths as if he barely remembered how to breathe, how he had nearly howled when Grantaire finally lowered his mouth to the other’s cock.

His throat was sore for the effort now, but the ache had left his jaw, and he was careful in sipping at the tea. “Last night was something else.” He said, and Combeferre nodded his agreement, moving to stand closer to Grantaire, one hand affectionately cupping his hip. He wore flannel pyjamas, and so did Enjolras - but, Grantaire noticed with amusement, while Enjolras had his own sets, he was wearing one of Combeferre’s. The garments dwarfed him a little, but Enjolras huddled comfortably in them, and whilst he’d been awake, had been inhaling deeply for their scent.

"It was transcendent." Combeferre leaned, pressing a kiss to Grantaire’s neck where the V of his shirt allowed him freedom to, and he grasped at Grantaire’s mug and set it aside again as he continued his attentions. 

"God." Grantaire whispered and he closed his eyes, leaning into Combeferre and allowing him to stroke over his body, fingers feeling so  _good_  on his flesh even through the layers of his shirt and his jeans. He didn’t understand this. Could not understand how Combeferre and Enjolras had invited him home to their shared apartment, when he’d thought Enjolras abhorred him and Combeferre pitied him (which was worse, in the scheme of things?), when Grantaire was so  _ugly_  compared to these two, in countenance as well as soul.

"Also fitting the definition of transcendent." Combeferre murmured cleverly, and Grantaire groaned, laughing a little as he melted against Combeferre’s chest.

"No philosophy jokes."

"Oh, but, Grantaire, they make up such an extensive part of my fantastic repertoire." 

“ _Fantastic_ , he says.” Grantaire jibed, and now it was Combeferre’s turn to laugh, the sound gentle and pleasant against Grantaire’s neck. He pushed the brunet forwards, towards the sofa and towards Enjolras.

"If you can’t appreciate my jokes, my friend, then go sit with the other humourless demon I share a bed with." Grantaire chuckled, moving to settle on the sofa next to the blond. 

"Hey, Enjolras?" He carefully stroked the blond’s hair back from his face, gentle in bringing him awake.

"Mmm?" Enjolras regarded Grantaire blearily through half-lidded eyes. "Grantaire." He mumbled, and before Grantaire could answer, he moved closer, sliding into the larger man’s lap and pressing his cheek to the warm cushion of Grantaire’s thigh. A moment later, he let out the smallest of snores.

"Did he just- am I-"

"He’s like a kitten until eleven or so. Just accept it." Combeferre advised. "Would you like any pancakes? Oh, and Courfeyrac will be here soon."

"Courfeyrac? Why?" Grantaire asked. "And yes, please."

"Oh, we eat breakfast together." Combeferre said as he set about making up a mix. 

"Ah, a Saturday routine?" Combeferre turned to regard Grantaire quizzically.

"No, every morning. Saturdays and Sundays just push his arrival later." Grantaire stared at him.

"You- but he lives in  _Clichy_.”

"He walks. It’s good for him." Combeferre turned back to his bowl, mixing with a whisk and a clever wrist. "We talk as a three. We’re more of a triumvirate than a pair, Enjolras and I, and Courfeyrac is the third. We talk politics, events coming that week. We’re very close, the three of us, like brothers - well. Remove the incestuous portion, I suppose brothers isn’t quite what I mean, but there is a sense of fraternité, you know? I suppose with you we’re more a quartet. The value of  _right angles_ , hmm?”

"Does- I mean, what we did last night-" Combeferre chuckled.

"No, Grantaire, we will not be engaging with him in that fashion, or a romantic one. I meant more a  _platonic_  quartet. A threesome put enough strain on our bed as it was, a foursome would destroy it.” Grantaire snorted, looking down at Enjolras and beginning to stroke through his hair. Enjolras was beautiful like this, a verifiable God, and Combeferre looked good too, truly a morning person, with bedhead and a bright smile, and-

Did he deserve this? Should he be intruding so? Combeferre had murmured in his ear what respect he had for him last night, Enjolras confessed he coveted the time he spent flirting with Lewis or with Prouvaire, both of them telling him their desires as they’d pulled him towards the bed.

"You look utterly pensive, Grantaire, stop it." Enjolras complained, looking up at him with his sleepy blue eyes and a scowl. "You’re disturbing my serenity."

"My sincere apologies." Grantaire murmured, putting the thoughts from his mind, and then he dipped, straining his neck to kiss Enjolras’ lips before he pulled back. "I shall do my best not to think in your vicinity."

"Thank you." Enjolras said graciously, and then he closed his eyes again as Combeferre tried to muffle his laughter against his sleeve on the other side of the room.


End file.
